


Walk On

by jencsi



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25900183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi
Summary: Don't you ever break your stride
Relationships: Julie "Finn" Finlay/Nick Stokes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Walk On

They went for a walk; for the first time together around his neighborhood on a cloudy afternoon in April. They started out walking at a normal pace, hands and arms swinging casually at their sides, not in any hurry, no destination in mind. He watched her hand move in front of him and when she swung it back, he caught hold of her wrist, his fingers lingering there before sliding against her palm, lining up with his and locking their fingers together. She glanced down at the sudden contact, her arm swinging up again, this time his arm came with her as their hands were now intertwined together. They kept the same swinging motion as they continued down the street, her grip was light but enough to give his palm warmth; his stomach did a back flip when she tightened her hold on his hand a minute later. 

Early one morning, she woke him up, wiggling beside him, full of energy despite the fact that the sun had not even risen yet. The sky and light in her condo created a blue tint to everything she owned. She fumbled with the blankets, slipping her hand under the covers and finding his hand to hold, her fingers fitting perfectly with his. She dragged him out of bed, throwing a hoodie on, messing up her already tangled hair, making him do the same. She never let go of his hand as they exited her condo complex, walking down the street. She held his hand but wrapped herself around his whole arm, laying her head on his shoulder as they started to feel the warmth of the sun on their bodies. He wondered why they just couldn’t stay in bed for this but his discontent washed away when she led him around the corner of the street where the sun could be seen illuminating everything, the view not visible from her space yet she discovered it and shared it with him. 

They walked down the middle of a dusty scrap yard full of broken and mangled car parts, empty shells of vehicles, tires and wheels lay everywhere, trip hazards abound. She kept swaying as she walked, pressing her finger on that red clicker, sweeping her arm over and over the landscape. He was bored with this type of field work, anxious to get back to Eli and Tina at the station. She started drifting towards him, explaining the clicker's purpose. He rolled his eyes, scoffed, kicked up rocks and dirt and dust with the toe of his shoe. She shifted closer to him in her path, clicking away absentmindedly, her hair whipping around in the breeze, her hand on her head struggling to tame it, those signature blonde curls being tossed around, distracting him from the job. When she cut close to walking in front of him and he had to make an awkward zig zag in his path to avoid bumping her, she smirked, sticking her face close to him. He knew she would have kissed him in the moment if the officers behind them were not watching. Instead, she let her hand swerve in front of his, fingers making contact with his wrist for a fraction of a second. It was enough skin to skin contact to make his heart beat faster and he could not help but smirk right back at her. The way she flirted, grabbed hold of his heart in such a tender way, the desert heat had nothing on her.

“I can’t do it,” she cried to him from her bed in the hospital. “I want to, but it hurts.”

Her anguish was slowly killing him. He was enraged that he couldn’t mend her weak legs and slow shuffle gait as quickly as she fixed his heart with her love. She pierced him with tear filled eyes as he encouraged her “Try again” patting her leg, squeezing her knee, saddened that she barely reacted to his touch. It was not long ago that he was alone with her, in their sanctuary, his bed, her condo, squeezing her leg, her knee, her thigh, fingers digging into the tender spot while she laughed and squirmed and did everything she could to pry his sturdy hand off her delicate muscles. She feigned injury and cried for mercy, only to be swept up in his embrace, tangled among the covers, wrapped up in his kisses and her own endless giggles. Now she barely cracked a smile, trapped in this sterile overly bright hospital space, her head refusing to cooperate with her body on the simplest tasks. Nevertheless, he soothed her soul which was boiling over with frustration, helping her sit up, guiding her to the hallway where the designated therapy approved route was set up for her. She braced her hands on the walkers handles, her feet carefully placed into slippers, her jogging pants the most comfortable thing she could handle dressing herself in day in and day out, the hoodie she buried in was one she stole from him and was a lifesaver in this freezing space. She shuffled, one foot at a time against the unbearably slippery floor, how ironic for a hospital to allow this type of shine in a place where people could fall so easily. She felt her arms tremble on the walker, needing that support while he stood behind her, bracing for a fall. She shuffled along, feeling some tingling in her legs subside with each step, her arms no longer shaking, her hands lifting from the tight grip on the walker. His hand was on her back as she swayed unsteady for a moment before lifting her leg, stepping down, lifting again, stepping down, right, left, one, two, three. She turned when she reached the end of the hallway, finding herself alone, glancing back at where he stood, waving at her, sliding the now useless walker aside as tears of relief filled her eyes. 

She ran at him at full force, colliding, arms thrown around him, the force of her hug knocking him back a few steps after he presented her with two plane tickets to San Diego leaving tomorrow. She squirmed in her seat on the plane, in the cab on the way to his place, his and hers now, he reminded her. She soaked up every detail of his condo space, pressing up against the sliding glass doors that led to the walkway behind his property and down to the private beach. Her eyes told him all he needed to know and they trekked down to the sand. She walked alongside him, hand locked tightly with his, swinging their arms over exaggeratedly. She dared to dip one toe in the water, screeching and leaping back when she discovered it was too cold. 

“It will get warmer,” he promised her “we have all summer.” 

The sun beat down on her, warming her arms and legs, reminding her how lucky she was to be here right now, not just from surviving the coma but being able to have this life with him. Every few steps or so, he would lift her hand up to kiss her knuckles, feeling her warmth, savoring the contact, seemingly touch starved after months apart. 

“Catch me,” she demanded, letting go of his hand and taking off running, slowed by the texture of the sand but nevertheless full of fire and play. 

He obeyed, quickening his pace, loving how she looked back to see if he was getting closer, squealing with delight when he reached out to grab her but missed, his hand just barely grazing her soft side. He let her keep running ahead of him, wanting her to enjoy every second of this new lease on life. But he wanted to catch her, to feel her in his arms again, fearing losing her so soon after getting her back, his delicate heart unable to fathom a world without her even if she was feet away from him on the beach. 

When he caught up to her, in one swift motion he had swept her off her feet and back into his embrace, spinning her wildly around in a circle while she laughed, savoring every second of that sound, of how her hair flew around him, how hearty and loud her laughter was, how he squeezed her side while he spun her and she shrieked in surprise, always ticklish. She complained she was getting dizzy and he let up, ending the spinning but keeping her in his arms. 

“Gotcha,” he touted his victory, keeping his fingers pressed into her tender side, squeezing more giggles out of her. 

“I want to walk,” she demanded when he started to carry her back to the condo, grabbing at his hand that was latched on to her side, wiggling until he set her back down on the warm sand. 

Even though she didn’t need the help, she leaned against him, letting him keep his hand on her side, reeling when he lowered his hand to rest on her hip, that feeling, his hands on her, the tingling in her stomach, the warm sand on her feet, even the icy chill from the water, it all meant the world to her because he had given it to her. 

They bypassed the condo to walk on the opposite side of the beach, pointing out more details of the landscape, seagulls, boats, little shops she wanted to explore, a food truck serving tacos she pouted and declared that she wanted for lunch. On and on they went, not caring where this path took them next.


End file.
